


Five of Clubs

by theotheralissa



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 23:40:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5804842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theotheralissa/pseuds/theotheralissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The maskmaker is quiet and unassuming. A little too quiet and unassuming, if you ask Nino.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five of Clubs

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion fic to [The Maskmaker's Apprentice](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5684395) :3 As I was writing the other fic I admit I was totally writing a background Ohmiya story in my head. So I guess this is that story :D 
> 
> Written for [muffinsome](http://archiveofourown.org/users/muffinsome) for being so so helpful to me in all of my fic exchange ventures and also for just being generally wonderful!! <3 Also for [sparkleboom](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkleboom) for being the inspiration for the original story! <3

The maskmaker is quiet. Nino spends a few days observing him and this is all he can come up with. Quiet and gets a really funny look on his face when he’s painting the fine details. The thin lines of a spider’s web or the points of snowflakes. He scrunches his face in a funny way and sometimes his tongue peeks out from between his lips. Sometimes his eyes cross a little and sometimes he jumps in his seat with a big satisfied grin when something comes out to his liking. 

Nino hovers around the mask workshop so much that eventually he’s noticed by Sho who invites him inside. He says he has some other work to do, casually, but walks quickly the other way. Going near the workshop seems dangerous somehow. Or he feels strange and exposed. He takes the long way to the inn where he’s staying that night just so he doesn’t need to walk past the workshop again. But even as he takes the long way he feels strangely like the maskmaker must be painting something. He must be making one of those faces. And Nino wants to see it again so much he can’t stand it. 

He takes a sharp turn to a path that leads to he workshop and with a thud runs right into the apprentice Sakurai Sho. 

“Ow...” Nino groans. 

Some supplies Sho is carrying go toppling to the ground and Sho chases after a bottle of paint that starts to roll down a hill and picks up speed as the slope becomes more severe. “Wait!” he calls after it. 

Nino rubs both his forehead and his pride and bends down to collect the other bottles that have fallen there and once he has them all gathered in his arms he sees a breathless Sho approaching him. “Thanks,” he says between heaving breaths. 

“No need to say that,” Nino says, handing the paints back over to him. He was the one who ran into Sho after all. But if anyone is really to blame it’s the maskmaker Ohno. 

“Can I help you with anything?” Sho asks, politely. “Do you already know your way around the town? I can take you around if you like.” 

Nino shakes his head. “Thank you,” he said. “But I’m fine.” 

He isn’t fine. Not even a little bit. Luckily for him, J is wrapped up in the Masquerade and with so many tools and supplies and staff at his disposal there isn’t much of a need for Nino. There are times like this too, when Nino is there as a means of support. The less J comes to him, the better the project is coming along. It works well for Nino and he knows that in times like this just his presence is enough to keep J calm. 

But he isn’t fine. Because with J occupied Nino doesn’t have anything to distract him from wondering about Ohno-san.

“There is a street,” Jun says. “Past the theater and around the corner from the pub.” 

Nino leans in, listening carefully. J probably wants to set some more decorations there or he wants to do something even more elaborate like produce a show at the theater. 

He isn’t expecting what J says next. 

“They have games there,” he says. “One where you throw a ball into a small cup and one where you throw darts at a target.” 

Nino swallows. 

“Maybe it’s somewhere you’d like to go,” he says, simply. 

Nino doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or not. J can tell he needs something to occupy his mind, but he doesn’t want to let his guard down. Sometimes J needs him suddenly. And he has to be ready when he’s called on. 

But he goes down that street anyway. He passes a bookstore and a small vegetable stand. Then just as J said, past the theater and the pub, there is something that looks almost like a small carnival. 

In one booth there are balls that can be thrown into small cups. There are darts and targets. But there are more games than maybe even J himself could imagine. One of them is a maze and one is brightly colored puzzle pieces floating in water that need to be retrieved with a fishing pole. The game Nino gravitates towards is a simple one. 

There is a jar full of brightly colored beads. It costs one silver piece to play, but all of the silver pieces from those who tried before sit together inside of a pouch. The beads are in every color imaginable. Pink and yellow and grey. White and gold. Whoever can guess how many blue beads are in the jar will be able to take the pouch full of silver coins. 

He looks at the jar carefully for a while then goes back to the game with the balls and small cups. While he tosses the ball he thinks about the blue beads. How many of them must be hiding inside. Though many beads are visible through the glass, none of them are blue. There could be none, he thinks, or maybe one hundred lined up all together in the middle. 

He wins the game with the ball and cup and moves on next to the darts. If he leaves it to chance, some numbers appear in his mind. A nice even number like 10 or 20. Or maybe a big, daunting 147. He gives the maze a try and though he makes a couple of wrong turns he finds his way out relatively quickly. But he isn’t good with a fishing pole so he skips that one and goes back to the jar. 

“One,” he says, simply. It’s the number that he feels is right when he stands in front of the jar once again. 

Then the pouch full of silver coins is placed into his hands. 

He can’t help but smile to himself. He looks down so that he doesn’t have to meet eyes with anyone and he shoves the pouch deep, deep into his bag. It makes his shoulder feel heavy but in a good way as he walks and hears the coins jingle every few steps. 

“Wait!” a man calls out from behind him. 

He’s the same man who was standing behind the jar of beads before. The one who gave him the pouch full of silver. 

“You forgot this!” he says, handing Nino his notepad. His eyes grow wide. It really isn’t like him to forget something as important as this. He takes it into his hands and bows in apology. 

“Thank you,” he says, the coins jingling when he stands upright again. 

“Watch out where you leave things today!” the man says. He has a funny mustache in the middle of his long face. “Tomorrow is the Masquerade so you don’t know where anything will end up!” 

Nino nearly curses under his breath. He’d almost just been able to put it out of his mind. But as soon as the man says it, the image of the maskmaker is clear in his head again. 

That night when he returns to the inn he takes his mustard colored mask out of the box the maskmaker, or well the apprentice Aiba-san, had given him. It has a small painting on it that Nino hadn’t noticed the first time when he’d seen it at the shop. But now that he looks at it up close it’s as clear as day. A diamond, heart, club and spade. They’re all in a neat row and Nino reaches out to touch it but then pulls back his hand as if he’s afraid he might smudge the paint somehow. 

Does the maskmaker know that Nino keeps a deck of cards in his bag? Did he see it or did someone tell him? Nino puts the mask back in the box and closes the lid. Then puts the box on the table. Then in the drawer. Then under some of his clothes in the drawer. 

J comes to his room in the morning already wearing his mask. 

“Already?” Nino asks, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes. J looks from one end of the hallway to the other. 

“Don’t come out of the room without wearing it,” J says. 

“Not even a little bit?” Nino asks. He moves his foot so just his toes are over the threshold and J puts his hand against the doorframe. 

Nino giggles. 

“I wasn’t really going to,” he says. He can’t make out J’s expression, but he can hear him sigh. And he knows that J isn’t mad although he probably isn’t smiling. Just thinking about J’s stern expression makes Nino smile a little more. This Masquerade means the world to J just like every project he takes on becomes his world. 

Nino goes to the drawer and there, still under the clothes, is the box with the mask inside. This time he does run one finger over the heart, diamond, club and spade. 

He waits for J to leave before putting on the mask. He ties it in the back and it feels strange and cold against his face. While he’s been in Kamen he’s learned the stories about the Masquerade. The legends travel around the town as if carried on the wind and his ear catches them in parts. Incomplete. 

One of the legends says that when the people of Kamen don their masks they aren’t the person they were before putting the masks on. 

Even after putting on the mask Nino is fairly sure he’s still Nino. He’s certain that the J who was at his doorway a moment before was the J he’s always known. Still, when he steps outside, somehow it doesn’t feel like he’s looking at the town through his own eyes. The trees are greener and the water of the lake seems cooler. A thought comes to him that it might be nice to dip in the lake when it’s warmer outside. He shakes his head then. That’s not a usual thought for him to have. 

He walks in light, uninhibited steps to the mask workshop. This also isn’t like the Nino he has been up until today. His mind floods with thoughts of the maskmaker and he doesn’t make any attempt to hold them back. 

His light feet take him down the path that curves down the hill and around the tree and there is the maskmaker’s workshop that he’s gone to visit almost every day since coming to Kamen. He goes around the back but the door isn’t open this time. There is no sound of paintbrushes swirling in water and none of the usual conversation between the apprentices. 

It’s dark and quiet. He supposes this is the only day of the year the workshop looks like this. 

Nino walks around the perimeter once then back to the front door. Normally the maskmaker would be behind his workbench painting his stories onto the masks. He has long, slim fingers and looks somehow elegant when he’s mixing the paint. Between colors he cleans the paint by dipping the paintbrush into a jar of water. Then he taps the wooden handle on the rim and moves back to the palette. Red and yellow make orange. Yellow and blue make green. Yellow and brown made his mustard colored mask. The silver heart, diamond, club and spade came from another vial altogether. 

The maskmaker isn’t in the workshop painting his masks today. But today is the day his masks are coming to life. 

Nino looks for the maskmaker and nearly runs into Aiba-san who he overhears is looking for J. Nino grins to himself. Aiba turns the corner and J right behind him. He probably doesn’t realize that J has changed his mask and Nino supposes he could tell him. He also supposes that they’ll meet at some place and time when they’re supposed to. Is it the same for Nino and the maskmaker? Although he supposes the maskmaker probably isn’t looking for him. 

Morning passes and afternoon comes and Nino doesn’t see anyone of the maskmaker’s stature. Not here or there. In the shops or the square. He sees Sho hiding from some children behind a wall and when Nino gets closer to the children he leans in and whispers, “It’s the brick wall on the south end of the square.” 

“Thanks mister!” one of the kids says with a little salute. 

Nino waves to them and starts down the path that leads to the lake. J might be over there by now overseeing what is sure to be the most impressive event of the evening. Nino thinks it will be more like punctuation at the end of a sentence. A perfect end to a perfect Masquerade. 

He doesn’t expect to see what he sees. Of course he sees J there. Even from far away he can recognize him by the way he stands and carries himself. But perched on a fallen tree is a figure, hunched over, who can be no one except the maskmaker himself. 

Nino swallows and lets his feet carry him there. He passes by J and holds his hand up in greeting, to which J gives a nod. J doesn’t need him right now so he’s free to go right to where the maskmaker is. 

Except the apprentice Aiba-san cuts him off at the pass. 

Nino curses a little to himself as Aiba takes the seat next to Ohno. The tree bark looks jagged and dry. It probably isn’t comfortable anyway, he thinks, and turns back to where J was before. But J is gone and there is nothing by the lake except an empty dance floor. It will be filled later. J will light up the whole lake and everything around it. Nino has seen a similar trick from him at the palace although the dance floor was in a grand hall and not outside by a lake. The quiet splendor of nature can stand up to anything in the palace walls, J had said to him. And Nino supposes he’s correct, but the quiet splendor of nature includes mosquitoes, much like the one biting him now. He swats it away and turns back to the path that leads away from the lake, leading him away from the two figures of Aiba and Ohno. 

He tries to scowl at them, but can’t quite manage it because even though he can’t see Ohno’s face it’s a face he can’t scowl at even if he wanted to. 

“Excuse me!” 

When Nino arrives back at the square he hears a voice from behind. It’s a young girl with a mask that has a painting of possibly all of the flavors of ice cream in the world. She’s clutching something in her hands and when Nino turns around he can see that she’s holding his notebook. 

“You dropped this,” she says, simply. “You should be more careful!” 

“Ah...” Nino says. He takes the notebook when she hands it to him. It’s the second time he’s lost this important thing today. He gives a nod to the girl in thanks and she runs away again back where she came from. 

He opens the notebook, flipping through each of the pages. He fills notebooks with projects as they come and go. In the beginning of the notebook is the Queen’s birthday celebration. After that it was a ceremony to honor the palace guard. He flips faster through the pages and arrives at the Masquerade of Kamen. After that there are blank pages, still waiting to be filled, and he flips to the end, empty sheet after empty sheet. But when he arrives at the last page there is something curious. 

He touches the page with his fingers. A small drawing is there. Diamond, heart, club and spade.

\---

When night begins to fall, all of the masked Masquerade guests gather near the lake. There isn’t any announcement but they just seem to flow there, lazily like the water. Some of them step timidly onto the dance floor when the orchestra begins to play. By the time the sky is dark and the stars come out, nearly everyone has found a partner on the dance floor. 

The maskmaker is still sitting there on the same fallen tree. He hasn’t moved and Nino wonders if he went over there and pushed him would he just topple over? He chuckles to himself at the thought, but then someone pulls on his hand and into a dance. 

“Um...” Nino says. He’s spinning before he even realizes. Having been brought up in the palace he knows how to move his feet and somehow he’s right in step with his partner. A man, taller than him, wearing a mask that looks like swirls of fluffy whipped cream. 

He’s passed on to a girl with a simple mask with thin, dark whiskers like a cat. Then he’s pulled into a waltz with a woman whose mask looks black from some angles and deep purple from others. 

When he finally spins back to the edge of the dance floor again he decides he’s going over there to that fallen tree. He’s going over to ask the maskmaker why he wrote in his book. Then he’ll topple him over just because. But when he’s finally escaped the crowd gathered around the edges he looks over to the fallen tree and the maskmaker appears to be gone. 

Nino stomps over anyway. The blades of grass get taller as the trees start to thicken, but Nino keeps stomping through it finally sitting down there on the tree by himself. He leans back. The dance floor looks very small from here, like he could hold it in his hand if he reached out for it. 

“Do you like your mask?” Ohno asks. 

He must be there, Nino thinks, sitting beside him. Nino blinks a couple of times before turning to look at him. Before he must have blended in to the dark but now he’s sitting much closer than Nino expected. His little finger grazes Ohno’s before Nino pulls his hand back and folds his arms together. 

“Yeah,” Nino says. “I like it.” He looks at the maskmaker suspiciously. Is it a trick question? Because for all this guy looks sweet and harmless Nino knows there is something he’s hiding. 

“Good,” Ohno says, sounding almost relieved. Nino looks at him pointedly like he’s trying to bore a hole through the mask itself. This guy is far too softspoken. The images he paints are far too striking. There is something too... something about him and Nino can’t put a finger on what. 

“Why did you take my book?” Nino asks. 

“I didn’t,” Ohno says simply. 

“Then why was this in it!” Nino says. He opens up the book to the painting of the diamond, heart, club and spade. 

“Ah,” Ohno says. “Because of these.” 

He pulls a deck of cards out of his bag. Not just any deck of cards. He pulls _Nino’s_ deck of cards out and holds them up casually as if he hadn’t taken them just like any common thief. Nino looks at him, incredulously, then snatches them out of his hand. He pulls them out of the box and flips through them. He doesn’t count them all but the weight feels right in his hand. They’re probably all here. 

“Now why did you take my cards!” Nino asks, stuffing them back into the box. His voice has an angry tinge to it, but it registers under Nino’s skin as something closer to excitement. 

“Because you’re a magician,” Ohno says. 

Nino shakes his head. “I’m not really,” he says. “I’m an assistant.” 

“But you’re also a magician,” Ohno says. 

“So is taking away the cards of a magician a way for you to pass the time or something?” Nino asks. “Is it a hobby?” 

“No,” Ohno says. “I’ve never met a magician before.” 

Nino keeps looking at him. It’s dark but he watches the way Ohno’s hands move, playing with a piece of grass he must have plucked from the ground. 

“I thought maybe you’d show me a magic trick,” Ohno finishes. 

“A trick?” Nino asks. He can’t deny that he’d love to show the maskmaker one of his tricks. The people at the palace aren’t as excited about magic as they used to be. These days acrobatics are more on trend and while Nino can do a decent backflip it isn’t enough to entertain the palace. 

“I thought if I took the cards you’d come and find them,” Ohno says. 

“There are other ways to contact someone you know,” Nino says. “You can send a letter by post for example.” 

“I thought,” Ohno says, “that a magician would want to be contacted more... magically.” 

“Being a pickpocket isn’t magic,” Nino says. 

“But you came after the cards didn’t you?” Ohno says. 

The hint of excitement Nino felt before turns into a wave, rolling off of him. To be tricked by the maskmaker almost feels like an honor in a strange sort of way. 

“Alright,” Nino says. “I’ll show you a trick.” 

It’s a simple sleight of hand. He’ll raise up his right hand in the air so that Ohno’s focus is drawn there and with his left hand he’ll pull a flower from the ground behind him. Then he’ll slip it into his sleeve and make it look as if he’s producing it from out of the air. 

“Ready?” Nino asks. 

“I’m ready,” Ohno says, eagerly. Nino wonders what kind of expression is there behind his mask. Is it anything like the face he makes when he’s concentrating on painting the fine details on a mask? Or is it more like an excited puppy with eyes full of wonder at the gift of a new toy. 

Nino lifts up his hand. 

Then a curious thing happens. All of the lights go off. The music stops. Everything in the town of Kamen seems to come to a stop. Even the crickets stop chirping and the wind stops as if it’s waiting patiently to be given permission to start blowing again. 

It wasn’t his trick, Nino thinks, but a stroke of good luck. He still pulls out the flower, still hides it there in his sleeve, but the old flower trick won’t look impressive next to the miles of silence he’s just inadvertently created by lifting his hand. 

Just as suddenly as they went out, the lights come back on. And there is the maskmaker leaning in close with his mask pushed to the side. Their eyes meet and Ohno quickly adjusts his mask again then sits with his hands in his lap as if he’d never dream of doing something like remove his mask at the Masquerade. 

“I saw that!” Nino laughs. 

“You...” Ohno says. Wonder in his voice. “You really are a magician.” 

Nino laughs some more, then takes the flower in his hand and sets it down there on Ohno’s knee.

“That’s my trick,” Nino says. The flower looks a little worn from being held too tight. But it sits there proudly on Ohno’s knee all the same. 

“Then I have a trick too,” Ohno says. 

Across the field the music has started again. The light show that J created is dancing there on the lake. Soon fireworks will burst in the sky. Nino counts down in his head. Three, two, one. The first wave of fireworks make silver streaks across the sky a deep sound that resonates in Nino’s chest. The second wave is full of colors - red and green and blue in the shape of dandelions. 

Nino feels Ohno grab his hand as the third wave takes to the sky. One on top of the other and it looks for a moment like the sky isn’t big enough to hold all of them. 

Ohno pushes his mask aside. He even takes it off, setting it down on a ridge in the tree bark. It makes Nino’s breath come quick and sharp. Even quicker and sharper when Ohno reaches to remove Nino’s mask as well. It is one of the most important rules of the Masquerade. One does not remove one’s mask. But he supposes Ohno is the maker of the masks and he can do with the masks as he pleases. 

He unties the string around the back of Nino’s head and sets it down just next to his. Two masks there looking up to the sky. And Ohno looking at Nino with more purpose than he ever has. 

Then all at once he pulls Nino close to him. 

“Trick,” Ohno says. Nino watches a smile form on Ohno’s lips just before he kisses him. This isn’t a trick at all, he thinks. Or maybe it’s the dirtiest trick anyone has ever played. The maskmaker holds a handful of the fabric of Nino’s shirt in his hand. Nino’s hand is clutching Ohno’s knee and his fingers graze against the small flower there. Ohno’s trick is more impressive than his and when they break apart for a moment, just enough for Nino to catch his breath, he laughs against Ohno’s lips. 

“That isn’t a trick,” Nino whispers. 

Ohno shrugs. “It’s my trick,” he says. “Yours was better.” 

Nino shakes his head and pulls Ohno in for another. 

\---

When J has finished packing his suitcase, Nino meets him out by the carriage. They’ve said goodbye to the woman who owns the inn and thank you’s to the shops owners and others in the town. Leaving is more of a production than arriving was as they’re taking the whole orchestra back with them. Several carriages and horses to draw them are at the gates of Kamen. 

As they're getting into the carriage something in Nino’s bag feels light. Too light. 

The first thing he does is search for his notebook. It’s there where it was before. He flips through it carefully and no pages are missing. At the end of the book he finds the small drawing again. Diamond, heart, club and spade. Then he immediately reaches for his deck of cards. 

The box is worn and the edges are rounder than they were when it was a brand new deck. The cards themselves are old and worn too. So much so that he doesn’t even need to use sleight of hand if he’s using this deck. The one with the black ink smudge in the corner is the seven of hearts and the one that’s frayed along the short side is the nine of diamonds. He knows the deck so well that even one missing card is enough to make his hand feel strange when he holds them. 

He flips through them carefully, not looking at the numbers or suits but by the way he recognizes the cards. A folded corner here and a crease there. A small spot where a drop of candlewax left a stain and hole from the end of a pin. 

He doesn’t immediately notice anything missing, but from between the cards a thin slip of paper falls out. It floats down to the floor of the carriage. The carriage sways on the bumpy road and the slip of paper almost escapes him. Finally he traps it between his fingers and sits close to the window where he can read it with help from the sun’s light. 

_I took this one._

Underneath is a drawing of the five of clubs. 

Underneath that is a tiny drawing of a mask. One that Nino hasn’t worn yet. It’s colored in with paint from what must be the thinnest brush on the maskmaker’s workbench. There are cards fanned out on one cheek and the background is the same mustard color as the one the maskmaker gave him before. 

He folds the slip of paper and hides a laugh behind his hand. 

“Something the matter?” J asks. 

“He stole my card,” Nino says. 

“You’ll get it back when we return,” J says. It’s a promise to come back to Kamen. One they had both been saying without any words. 

But Nino won’t be coming back for the card. This deck, he thinks, will have to stay one card short just as it is now.


End file.
